


Touch The Edge Of Greatness

by 1975pilots



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Recovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-28 08:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1975pilots/pseuds/1975pilots
Summary: currently on hiatus! may return, may not.I wanna be completely weightless // I wanna touch the edge of greatnessorin which a semester long psychology project gets a little too personalpotentially triggering





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever story-esque fanfiction. Any kudos/comments/suggestions/constructive criticism is more than welcome!

I fucking love rain. Like, a lot. I can’t get sick of it. It’s part of the reason that Washington fits me so well. It’s big and busy and rainy and old and modern and freaking beautiful.

 

It’s my second week here, and I’m finally beginning to get over the panic of picking up my entire life and moving somewhere new. My parents didn’t want me to apply to college across the country. They couldn’t believe it when I got accepted on a full ride scholarship to one of the best schools in the country.

 

Honestly, they didn’t want me to come at all. But I knew I needed to leave Minnesota. It’ll always have a part of my heart, but a little bit of 'culture' shock was needed - it’s time for me to grow up. In the end, my parents were supportive, or, at least, they held back their hesitation.

 

I moved into the dorms at the first possible opportunity. It was definitely the best decision for me, because, while I'm still terrified for school to actually start, I feel like I know the city and the campus better than I would if I had moved in yesterday - like my roommate.

 

Her name is Jenna Black, and she's actually super sweet. We haven't talked too much, but she complimented my pride flag and the 'intersectional feminist' shirt I was wearing, so I like her.

 

Our dorm room is actually really, really nice. We have a private freaking bathroom! Our rooms were only constructed last year, and the building's basically empty, so it's supposed to be a joint bathroom, but no one is staying in the room next to us, so it's all ours.

 

Another plus of my arriving so early is that I was able to make my room actually feel like home. I'm completely unpacked, and have my desk, bed, and half of the closet set up, along with my pictures and posters (and pride flag) hung on the wall. However, arriving early didn't completely take the edge off. 

 

Classes start tomorrow, and I’m basically freaking out. I’m super excited, but also so nervous that I feel like I’m going to throw up, resulting in an unpleasant combination of nausea and butterflies.

 

I’m trying to keep myself calm by reminding myself that I kept my class load light this first semester - I have classes at 9:30 and 3:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and classes at 8:00 and 12:00 on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

 

Was it a bad decision to take an 8 am class? Yes, yes it was. A fucking horrible one, and I haven’t even started it yet! However, I’m majoring in pre-med (and minoring in Spanish), so I’ll need to get used to shitty hours. It’s currently 8 pm, and I’m exhausted. I give myself about an hour before I crash.

 

Update: I didn’t make it an hour. I fell asleep at 8:15 in my jeans and flannel, without showering. Thankfully, I predicted an idiotic move like that and set my alarm for 6.

 

I’m not about to attend my first day of college looking like a dead slug. I jump in the shower 5 minutes after waking up, shave my legs, wash and condition my hair, and step out feeling like a much more productive member of society.

 

I french braid my hair in two, pulling them tight to my skull. Wiping the condensation off of my mirror, I see my scale in the corner of the room, the first thing I bought when I arrived.

 

 _No, not today. I’m not going to screw up my concentration in my first class with the thought of how much I weigh. I’m not going to do it_.

 

But, of course, I have to. I squeeze the last bit of water out of my hair and dry every droplet off of my body. Stepping onto the scale, I instinctively hold my breath and close my eyes.

 

When I open them, the display reads 112 pounds, and I release my breath. I grab my phone from the counter and calculate my BMI - at 5’8”, a weight of 112 pounds puts me at 17.0. It’s not enough. I have at least 12 more pounds to lose before I'll be able to at least stand myself.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an idiot. I’m a pre-med student, of course I know that this isn’t healthy. It’s something I’ve been struggling with my entire life, and moving was definitely a trigger. Finally, I was somewhere where my parents weren’t watching my every move, calculating every mouthful and every trip to the bathroom. I was free to give in to what’s been making me feel insufficient since I was in fourth grade (I’ve never been able to call it what I know it is).

 

I throw on a sweatshirt over my joggers and camisole before heading down to the tiny dining hall housed in our dorm. Stepping into the slightly fluorescent lighting, I'm not surprised that I'm one of the only people here.

 

I grab a pre-packaged bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios (110 calories) and a carton of skim milk (90 calories), before making myself a chai latte at one of the shitty coffee machines. I pay for my meal, and choose a seat in the corner of the hall, in a small, overstuffed green chair in front of a coffee table.

 

Because our dorm is so new, the dining hall is kind of a mixture of a living room and a dining room, with the regular tables and chairs closer to the food, but sofas and armchairs next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. I eat slowly, sipping at my latte between bites of cereal, enjoying the faint view of the mountain outside the window.

 

By the time I finish eating, it’s only 7:15, and I know I probably could have slept in for at least another hour. I walk back upstairs and notice that Jenna's gone (although, to be honest, I'm not sure if she was even here last night).

 

I have time to spare, so, as the responsible intellectual individual I am, I watch America’s Next Top Model until 8:30. Kim got eliminated?? Tyra can literally kiss my ass (yes, I’m only on cycle 5, give me a break).

 

I know I need to leave at 9:15 to get to my class a little bit early, so I throw on my skinny jeans and baggy striped sweater, along with my maroon converse. I strategically planned this outfit about a week ago, as it isn’t form fitting, so I’ll look like less of a fat moron, and it covers my extremities, which give away more about my past than I’m comfortable with.

 

I apply a little bit of mascara and lip gloss, I’ve never been good at makeup, so I keep it simple. I pack my small backpack with my fully charged MacBook, which was a gift from my parents after I made my decision, my chargers for that & my phone, money for coffee on campus between classes, a notebook, and my pencil case.

 

I’ve always been over prepared and then felt like an idiot when I see what other people have brought, so, trust me, I’m restraining myself. My heart won’t stop beating like a freaking hummingbird, and it’s only 8:50, so I finish the episode I’m on before walking out the door.

 

_It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m not gonna look like an idiot. Fuck, I’m gonna look like an idiot._

 

I arrive outside my classroom at 9:25. The walk over was slightly calming. It's cool and misting, meaning not many other people were walking around. It gave me time to myself, to think and to breathe. Even as I stand outside the door, I'm using the breathing techniques my therapist taught me:

 

 _In four, hold four, out four, hold four_. 

 

Taking a risk, I open the door, and breath a sigh of relief when I see that I’m not the first person here. In fact, my timing actually worked out really well, putting me around seventh. Not too desperate, but certainly not a slacker. Not that it really matters, as the professor isn’t here yet.

 

There are ten rows, each with about fifteen seats in them, and though I know that class sizes aren’t that large, the sight still puts a lump in my throat. I sit in the eleventh chair in the third row. Once again, not too much of a kiss-ass (aka, first row, center seat), but made clear that I still want to be here.

 

The class slowly filters in throughout the next five minutes, speeding up as time goes on. At 9:30 on the dot (still, before the professor has arrived), a boy with bright yellow hair, a black snapback, ripped black jeans, and a black t-shirt walks through the door, surveys the room, and makes his way up the rows to sit next to me. I force myself not to roll my eyes. Trying to play the bad boy much? With that out of mind, though, he’s pretty cute, and I remind myself not to be an idiot.

 

At 9:32, the professor walks in, and he is the literal opposite of what I expected. His hair is bright red, he’s _maybe_ 30, and while he’s wearing a polo shirt, he’s paired it with tight black jeans, not unlike the ones the guy next to me is wearing.

 

“Hello class. Sorry for being late. My name is Professor Way, and I will be your professor for your first semester of psychology. How many of you here are majoring in pre-med? Raise your hands."

 

Looking around me, I tentatively raise my hand, along with about twenty other people in the class of maybe forty, including the yellow-haired boy next to me, who notices my raised hand and smirks.

 

“That’s about what I expected. The rest of you will probably be majoring in humanities or liberal arts or, well, general psychology. Whatever the case, but especially for those of you going into pre-med, this is only the beginning."

 

"I know you just graduated high school, but your true education is just starting. My class is difficult. Psychology is complicated, and my job is to teach you as much as possible in a limited amount of time. You need to actually attend class if you plan on doing well."

 

"This semester will focus on a broader range of psychology, it is next semester that we’ll begin going in depth with some of the subject matter from this semester. However, I am taking the liberty of assigning one extremely in depth _group_ project. Before you get your hopes up, I have also assigned partners."

 

Most of the class let out groans at that, but I was actually relieved. Picking partners sometimes turns out badly for me. At least if this does, it isn’t my fault.

 

“Welcome to the real world, people. Now, I have emailed you and your partner the subject of your project. This is psychology, so each of these projects will be focusing on a mental illness. These subjects are non-negotiable, as are your partners. If you have a serious concern, you may see me during my office hours and we can discuss.

 

The rest of this class period will be “free time”. You should look over the syllabus, find your partners, and start your research. This will be the only class period in which you’ll be given work time for the semester, and this project is worth 30% of your grade. See me if you have any questions."

 

With that, he sat down. Heart beating quickly, I opened my laptop and logged into my email. Sure enough, I have an email from Professor Gerard Way, titled ‘Semester One Partner Project Details’. It reads

 

_Ms. Clara Williams and Mr. Joshua Dun,_

 

_The two of you will be partners for your semester long project, worth 30% of your grade. Your subject is the mental illness anorexia nervosa. You are expected to analyze the illness, psychically, mentally, emotionally, and psychologically. See the syllabus for further instructions._

 

_Professor Gerard Way_

 

My gaze is torn from the screen by a nudge from the yellow haired dude sitting next to me. “Hey, do you know who Clara Williams is?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter describes a past suicide attempt kinda graphically, so just be careful. I probably won't usually update this super quickly but kinda felt the need to bang this out lol. Kudos, comments, constructive criticism, etc. is always appreciated!

_“Hey, do you know who Clara Williams is?”_

 

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s me”.

 

_Smooth_

 

“Oh, that was easy! Hi! I’m Josh”

 

“Hey.”

 

He’s typing on his computer as he speaks. “You’re going into pre-med too, right? What are you planning on doing?”

 

“I’m planning on being a trauma surgeon, probably. I’m not totally sure yet, but definitely something in a hospital. I wanna be in on the action”.

 

His eyes actually kinda light up, which is totally, not at all cute. “Cool! I wanna be an anesthesiologist! Who knows, maybe we’ll end up working together!”

 

It’s funny, once he starts talking his wannabe bad boy exterior starts to melt away. He talks like an overexcited puppy, smiling and nodding.

 

“Who knows?”, I tease, willing myself to have _some_ kind of personality, because I don’t want this dude to be annoyed by me if we’re gonna be working together all semester.

 

He turns his computer so I can see his screen. “I started a folder on Google Docs and shared it with you. We should look over the syllabus to see what the more specific requirements and stuff are.”

 

I nod, and the talking stops as we both pull up the long document on our computers and begin to read over the portion about our project.

 

He furrows his eyebrows before speaking, “Okay so basically what I’m getting is that we’re supposed to analyse the disease from every angle possible, so, like, not stopping at a psychological standpoint but also looking into emotional and physical effects, and maybe explaining how those affect a person’s psychology?”

 

“That sounds like an awesome idea. Let’s maybe spend the rest of class just taking notes and stuff, so we have a little bit more of an idea of what we’re dealing with. Maybe, if we’re looking at it from different standpoints we could divide the notes into categories? I was thinking physical and psychological, at least for now?”

He grins, and it lights up his chocolate brown eyes. “Yeah! So, like, how much do you know about anorexia already? I actually kinda know a fair amount, my sister had it and the whole family has to be really involved in the recovery process, so I learned a lot about eating disorders and stuff. It’s some pretty heavy shit.”

 

My heart drops into my stomach. It’s a sick twist of fate that we would even have this topic in the first place, but for the dude I’m working with to have a deeper-than-normal knowledge of eating disorders? What the hell? I’ve never considered myself skinny enough to have an eating disorder, but I know that some people who don’t see me the way I do think that something is wrong when I’m eating ‘weirdly’. I’m taking too long to answer.

 

_Wierdo_

 

“I don’t know, I think I know a fair amount about eating disorders in general, and anorexia, but I guess there’s always more to learn. Oh, by the way, if today is our only in-day class to work on this, we’re obviously gonna have to get together outside of class, so I can make like a schedule or something. Just change something if it doesn’t work for you.”

 

“That’d be awesome, thank you! What do you think about like, two days a week, for now? If we need to do it more often, that’s cool, and if we get done early then we can just refine it and practice presenting and stuff.”

 

My heart, which, last time I checked, was still in my stomach, probably drops into my foot. “Woah.. presenting? I didn’t see that part. Are we presenting it in front of the class?”

 

“Yeah, the week before finals. Is that okay? We could probably talk to Mr. Way if you can’t or something.”

 

“No, no, that’s fine. I have kinda bad anxiety but I’ll just suck it up. I need to get used to it, anyways.”

  
  
He nods sympathetically. “I get it, I used to have it pretty bad too. It’s just the kind of thing you need to learn to manage, it never really goes away.”

 

I nod, because I need to stop talking. “Should we get to work?”

 

“Sure! I’ll make a notes doc if you can make a schedule doc.”

 

I nod again, and get to work. I leave the schedule for later and start my research, taking notes on things I already know. Apparently, anorexia nervosa is defined as “an emotional disorder characterized by an obsessive desire to lose weight by refusing to eat”. Groundbreaking, right?!

 

We take notes for the rest of class, with minimal talking, which I’m beyond grateful for. When class ends at 11, I head grab (another) chai latte, this time iced, from Starbucks, and start on the schedule in the courtyard. I plan workdays for Tuesday and Thursday so his weekends don’t get disturbed (no risk of that for me).

 

My human anatomy class at 3:30 is significantly less stressful than psych was. My professor, Mr. Iero, is super chill, but, seriously, when did professors start getting so young? I was expecting a bunch of old dudes. We just went over the syllabus for all of class, which was only an hour, but will apparently will be two on Wednesday’s after we start doing labs. I get back to my dorm at 3:45, and Jenna is there. I notice she’s started decorating a little bit more, there are pictures of her boyfriend taped up on the wall by her bed, and _oh my god._

 

In more than a few of the pictures, there’s a splash of yellow hair (and red, and green, and blue, and purple. How is this dude not bald?).

 

“Hey, is the dude with yellow hair in those pictures named Josh?”

 

“Yeah!” Jenna says “Josh is my boyfriends best friend. He’s a super cool dude. How do you know him?”

 

“Oh, he sits next to me in my psych class. We’re actually partners for a semester long project.”

 

She laughs at this. “Oh, gosh, Josh is a total flirt. He’s super nice, but if he does anything that makes you uncomfortable, just let me know, and….” She holds up her fists, mock fighting.

 

This time, it’s my turn to laugh. “He seems pretty chill, but thank you. Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t want to like be inconvenient or anything, but I’m exhausted and I’m gonna take a nap, so if you could maybe just keep it down for a little bit, I’d totally appreciate it.”

 

“Oh, no problem, I’m actually going out with Tyler, my boyfriend, tonight. He and Josh are actually roommates, they live in this dorm too. I think he’s getting here in about five minutes.”

 

“Oh, weird, what a coincidence! Okay, have fun!”

 

I grab my pajamas and go into the bathroom to change. I sit on my bed and take out my braids when Jenna looks up casually, then does a double take when she sees my wrists. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything, and goes back to her homework.

 

My wrists are bad. There’s really no way around it. Two years ago, I decided I was done. I slit my wrists from the nape of my palm to nearly my elbow and took every pill I could find. I passed out before my parents found me, and I still don’t really know what happened, besides that they were barely able to sew me up in time.

 

Unlike the other scars layered beneath the two from that night, they’ve never really faded. Sure, they’ve gone from bright red to purplish-pink, but they’re still visible from across the room. I know because I’ve stood in a mirror and backed up to the opposite wall to see if I could still see them. I could.

 

In high school, I gave up trying to hide them. They weren’t gonna go away, and everyone already knew, so once they healed, I started wearing short sleeves again. Now that I’m here though… I don’t know how long I have to hide them until I can reveal them and not have them be the first thing people associate with me.

 

‘Oh, Clara, yeah, I know her! She’s kinda quiet, but okay. Did you hear she tried to slit her wrists high school? You can still see the scars…’ is actually better than ‘Clara the Cutter’. Unfortunately, I’m not ‘creative’ enough to come up with a clever name like that by myself. I’ve learned my lesson about showing them too soon, but I don’t want to wear sweaters for the rest of my life.

 

I’m past suicide, I think. I’ve never attempted again. I don’t know if it’s that the therapy I got afterwards helped, or if there’s some tiny little hope inside me that someday I’ll actually _want_ to live, but I’ve made it this far without trying to get out again.

  
I get in bed and can literally _feel_ Jenna staring just a little too hard at her computer screen. I just hope she doesn’t spread it around. She doesn’t really strike me as that kind of person, but you never know. Suddenly exhausted from the day, I snuggle down into my bed, knowing I’ll have to face the world again in a couple of hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I was at camp for three weeks, and then it took me a little bit to get back into writing. Thank you to anyone who's given kudos so far! As always, those, comments, and constructive criticism are appreciated beyond words. Thank you so much to anyone who's read this far!

I wake up because of my stomach growling. I’m used to it, of course, but I know I need to respond to this. I’m an expert at ignoring hunger cues, but there’s a difference between the kind of hungry that means I’m losing weight and the kind of hungry that means I have half an hour until I pass out.

 

Last time, I went too far for too long. 500 calories a day, purging if I ate anything more. Yeah, I lost weight, but it landed me in the hospital. Inpatient for four months, intensive outpatient for seven. I only got out six months before I left to come here.

 

I’d like to think I’ve learned, at least a little bit. Clearly not all that much, because I’m kind of back to where I was before, but there are differences. I’m not afraid to drink water (though, now, I force myself to drink five bottles a day). I eat _something_ three times a day - not a meal, but something.

 

Last time, my organs were shutting down. I don’t want to die (I think). I don’t want last time. I just want to be skinny.

 

With a groan, I force myself out of bed. Thankfully, Jenna isn’t in the room. That would have been embarrassing. I throw on a flannel over my camisole, because it’s 8:45 at night and I’m done caring, and head downstairs to the dining hall.

 

Highkey, I _love_ the dining hall (I know, it sounds weird for me to say). There’s a permanent breakfast counter, which has rolls, bagels, cereal, peanut butter, etc. for as long as the cafeteria is open.

 

Breakfast is easy. I already said that, and I’ll say it again. Lunch and dinner are complicated. Pasta, pizza, even just salad, is so much harder to measure, and be sure of. Peanut butter? 95 calories per tablespoon. Cereal? Depending on the kind, around 110-120 calories per cup.

 

Pizza? Who knows? It could be 200 calories per slice, it could be more than 400. It’s not precise enough. Breakfast is easy.

 

When I walk into the dining hall, I make a beeline for the breakfast counter. I grab one pretzel roll (200 calories) and a pre-packaged container of peanut butter (2 tablespoons, 190 calories). As an afterthought, I pick up a banana and a knife to spread my peanut butter with, and pay for the food. I’m about to walk out, when I swear I hear my name being called.

 

I turn around, and, sure enough, Jenna, whom I gather to be Tyler, and Josh are sitting at a table with a bunch of other people. Jenna’s smiling and waving, and, having made eye contact, I rather reluctantly make my way over.

 

Josh scoots over as I approach, making room for me in between him and a pretty cute dude with a ‘five-head’. “Hey!” Jenna says, as I sit down, folding in on myself to take up as little room as possible, “You’re alive!”

 

I give up a small smile. “Yeah, I was pretty wiped out.”

 

“I’ve only known her for a day, and this girl already sleeps more than anyone I’ve ever met!” Jenna says to Tyler and Josh, and the two boys laugh.

 

Kind of feeling the need to defend myself, I speak up. “I have anemia, so I’m just super tired all the time”.

 

Jenna’s face furrows. “What’s anemia?” I open my mouth to respond, but Josh beats me to it.

 

“Anemia is an iron deficiency. It means you don’t have enough red blood cells or hemoglobin, which makes you super tired all the time. My sister used to have it, it’s pretty common in people who don’t eat red meat.”

 

My heart skips a beat when he mentioned his sister - if he’s talking about the one who used to have an eating disorder, I don’t want any connections made between her and I.

 

“Yeah, I’ve been a vegetarian for 6 years. I try my best to get as much iron in as I can, but it’s been so long that the deficiency kind of built up over time.”

 

I’m lying. I’ve only had anemia since the first time I got sick, but - obviously - they don’t need to know that.

 

“Oh, cool! Why did you decide to be a vegetarian?”

 

“It just kind of freaks me out to eat something that used to be alive, you know?”

 

The real reason is that, even when I was twelve, I wanted to limit the amount of unhealthy food I could eat. Admittedly, I really am committed to vegetarianism now, it’s just not why I started.

 

“Well, I kind of get it, I just love steak too much!” He responds with a laugh.

 

My stomach gives a growl so loud I’m sure he must have heard it, so I cut my roll in half and begin to spread peanut butter over it as we continue to talk. Jenna and Tyler are in their own little world, so it’s just the two of us.

 

I ask him if he knows the other people at the table.

 

“Yeah, Jenna joined some group on Facebook after the three of us got accepted here, to meet other people. She started talking to Pete and Brendon, and we kinda all joined in as time went on.”

 

He points out Pete, a short dude with quiffed hair who is definitely wearing eyeliner, and to Brendon as the cute dude with the big forehead sitting next to me, who doesn’t seem to gather that we’re talking about him.

 

I learn that Josh, Jenna, and Tyler are from Columbus, Ohio. They all went to the same high school, and got to be friends freshman year. Tyler and Jenna have been dating since they were sophomores.

 

When I ask what he likes to do, he tells me he likes music, reading, and hanging out with dogs, which kind of makes me fall in love with him a little bit. It’s truly nothing personal, I’ll fall in love with anyone who likes those three things. The fact that he manages to be both super hot and cute doesn’t hurt, though.

 

By the time I’m finished with my roll (it takes me half an hour, between talking to Josh and forcing myself not to scoff it down), I’ve learned a lot about him. He has three siblings; two sisters and one brother. I don’t ask which had the eating disorder, but I’m dying to know.

 

He loves pizza, plays the drums, has wanted to be some kind of doctor since he was eleven, and, after a bit of probing, I find out that he and Tyler have a YouTube channel where they post videos of themselves playing music.

 

At that point, Jenna butts into the conversation, telling me that I _have_ to check out their videos, that they’re _so_ talented. Josh and Tyler both immediately blush and protest, but I can tell they’re secretly pleased.

 

I don’t reveal much about myself, turning the conversation back to him when he asks. ‘Do I have any siblings?’ ‘Yeah, one brother. Wait, how old are yours?’. I would consider myself an expert at not talking about myself, unless it’s to a therapist.

 

I excuse myself around 9:30, explaining my early class tomorrow. Josh offers to walk up to the room with me, and with an approving wink from Jenna, I accept. We walk in comfortable silence until we reach my door. As I turn to say good-night, he speaks first.

 

“Hey, would you want to go out to lunch tomorrow?”

 

Oh _. Oh. Oh, my God. Is he asking me out?_

 

“Um, sure. Where and when?”

 

“Well, I have a biology class at twelve. If you’re free after that, we could go to a cool pizza place I found downtown the other day. Do you like pizza?”

 

Of _course_ I’m in his bio class, too. And I fucking love pizza, but I’m too damn scared to eat it. I have to say yes, though, I can’t look like a bitch.

 

“I have a bio class then too, we’re probably in the same one! And of course, pizza sounds great”.

 

He gives a shy smile, which is seriously the most adorable thing I’ve seen him do - confidence is hot as hell, but that smile shows me that he isn’t arrogant.

 

“Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow! Sleep well.”

 

“Night."

 

I close the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long, and is so low quality and short. I've been super busy lately, and haven't had a ton of inspiration for this story, but I promise I'll update more frequently! Hang in there with me. Thank you so so so much to anyone who's reading!

I know as soon as I wake up that it’s going to be one of  _ those _ days. My depression is high functioning, so they don’t come around often, but when they do, they hit me like a truck. Today’s must be a cement truck, because nothing is going to be happening today. I shut off my alarm and go back to sleep.

 

It’s when I wake up for the second time, around 10, that the crushing guilt hits me. I don’t skip class, ever, and I’ve just skipped one of my first three college classes. I grab my laptop (it was on my bed - there’s no way I could get up) and email the professors of my two classes today.

 

_ Dear So-and-so, _

 

_ My name is Clara Williams, and I am enrolled in your class, Blah Blah Blah, at whatever-o-clock. I will be/was not able to make it to class today, as I am ill. I am so sorry, and plan to attend every class possible this semester.  _

 

_ Thank you for your time,  _

 

_ Clara Williams _

 

With that out of the way (though not at all reducing my anxiety about it), I fall back into my pillows and switch over to my Hulu window, and fall into the hole of America’s Next Top Model. It’s nice to worry about someone else’s life instead of mine.

  
  


At 2:15, there’s a knock on my door. Jenna isn’t here, and hasn’t been all day, so I drag myself out of bed for the first time in  _ Jesus it’s been like 18 hours _ to answer it. When I open it, and it’s  _ oh my God the date  _ Josh that I realize how disheveled I must look.

 

I’m wearing my pajamas - my arms automatically go behind my back. My hair’s been in the same messy bun since I threw it up last night. I look  _ fat _ in these joggers. I’m wearing a fucking  _ camisole _ , he can see all my stomach rolls. 

 

“Hey, you weren’t in class today, so I just came by to check on you.”

 

I make my voice rough and raspy - sick. “Yeah, I’m not feeling good so I skipped class. Thanks for checking on me. Raincheck on lunch?”

 

“For sure! Do you need anything? I can get you some juice or soup from the dining hall or something”

 

Truth be told, I’ve been relishing in the hunger all day. It’s been a constant reminder, a calming pain that tethers me to earth. Sometimes, I feel like if I think too much, I’ll just disappear. 

 

“I’m okay, thank you so much, again.”

 

“Really, no problem.”

 

He puts his hand behind his neck, scratching at an itch that I guess to be imaginary.

 

“Hey, um.. could I get your number? It’ll be easier to communicate, for the project and for setting up lunch.”

 

He ends the sentence with a nervous laugh, and I feel myself soften a little bit.

 

“Sure!” I wait for him to grab his phone and give me a nod before continuing.

 

“Thank you! Feel better, and let me know if there’s anything I can do. Think you’ll make it to class tomorrow?”

 

“God, I hope so. Professor Way kinda scares the shit out of me.”

 

He laughs again, lighting up his face. 

 

“Me too. See you later.”

 

I give him a quick grin and wait for him to start to walk away before closing the door. 

 

“Bye, Josh”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola!! Another update! I actually kind of like this chapter. I'm a sophomore in high school, and, thus, pretty much clueless as to how to write college classes, so any advice/slack cut is greatly appreciated. Once again, thank you to everyone reading!

I awake to my stomach trying to claw itself out of my body. That, and the sound of my alarm. The events, or general lack thereof, of yesterday come rushing back to me. I shut off my alarm, grab my clothes for the day, and tiptoe to the bathroom to avoid waking Jenna. 

 

Once there, I log into my school email in my phone. To my relief, I have a response from both professors of the classes I missed yesterday, excusing me. I step into the shower and turn on the water just a little too hot, letting it wash out all of the sadness that sunk into my skin yesterday.

 

When I step out, freshly scrubbed and shaved, I feel much better. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, then braid it into a bun. I take care to dry every drop of water off of my body before stepping onto the scale, unconsciously holding my breath as I do every time.

 

_110.1._ _Holy fucking shit_. I can’t keep the grin off of my face as I turn to examine my body in the mirror. People think anorexics see themselves as fat no matter what. Like we just look in the mirror and see a blob. It’s not true. I’d like to think I’m one of the only people who sees myself the way I really am.

 

Other people, they let their feelings get in the way of how they see me. When they learn how I lose weight, I look skinnier to them, because they’re concerned. Even if they don’t know anything about me, most people are too nice to be honest with themselves about how disgusting I am.

 

Look, I know I’m not  _ technically _ fat.. I’m not overweight. I’m underweight, though just barely. But I’m  _ fat _ . My thighs slope inward, too much fat hanging off of the bone. My hipbones, while visible, just barely peek out through my love handles. My ribs are defined when I lean back and suck in, but are otherwise obscured by skin and fat.

 

I know what I look like. I can admit to myself that I’m not perfect. Unlike other people, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix that. That isn’t me saying that other people are weak - God, no. I know that this is wrong, I just can’t find it within myself to care.

 

Forcing myself to look away from the mirror, I begin to get dressed. I slip on a spaghetti strap dress over a maroon bralette, and layer a jean jacket over the dress. No one, especially not Josh, deserves to be exposed to my upper arms. That, and I’d freeze to death without a jacket.

 

I pack my backpack in near silence, and creep out of the dorm by 8:30. After paying for breakfast, I plug in my headphones and eat to the sound of a playlist on Spotify (Coffee House). Today’s breakfast is a bit of a splurge, both as a reward for losing so much weight, and to make up for the fact that all I ate yesterday was a banana and a glass of orange juice.

 

I got a blueberry muffin (roughly 426 calories) and a carton of apple juice (110 calories). I take my time, knowing I don’t have to leave to get to class until 9:20. At 9:13, I realize I forgot to take my fucking medicine. Yesterday, too.

 

I run upstairs and bang into the room, forgetting too late that Jenna might still be asleep. Thankfully, she’s awake, and gives me a look of slight alarm.

 

“Forgot to take my medicine.” I pant out, gulping down five pills in as many seconds. 

 

She nods and waves as I rush back out the door. She must have still been tired, because I don’t think she’s communicated nonverbally until now. I let out a sigh of relief when I see that it’s only 9:17, and I have plenty of time. 

 

I enjoy the walk to class. The air is fresh, I can see the outline of the mountains a couple of miles away, and the day is cloudy. I get to class a little early, and am surprised to see Josh already there. He grins at me from across the room.

 

“Hey!” He greets, as I sit down. “Feeling better?”

 

“Yeah, thanks! I slept for like 20 hours yesterday.” I admit with a laugh,

 

We make surprisingly comfortable small talk until Professor Way walks into the room, a couple minutes late again. He announces that we’ll be going over the syllabus today, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

 

Class was about as boring as can be expected when you’re going over a syllabus. Josh and I swapped numbers about halfway through, and he proceeded to text me memes for the rest of class. If I didn’t have a crush on him before, I sure as hell do now. 

 

About halfway through biology, in which we’re taking notes on different fields, I get two texts from Josh in a row. The first is, unsurprisingly, a meme about the mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell. The second is an actual conversation starter.

 

_ Josh:  _ hey! u free tmrw after class? rain check on lunch frm yesterday.

 

_ Me:  _ sure! learn how to type :/ 

 

Memes are abandoned from that point on, as we make plans for tomorrow and talk about our days. I sit in the back of the bio classroom, so Professor Iero can’t see me texting, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t care anyways. It’s weird how different the college environment is from high school.

 

After we’re dismissed, I head back to the dorm. I’m kind of on a productive roll today, so I change my clothes and head to the gym a couple of buildings away. With the way life has been going lately, I shouldn’t have been surprised when I stepped out of the locker room to see Josh lifting weights across the mirrored room.

 

Suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that I’m wearing running shorts and a tank top, I take a deep breath and step out. 


End file.
